by Callie Croix
He arched a dark eyebrow. “Well?”
“Hello to you, too.”
He didn’t respond, but his expression turned from cold to wary.
Well, damn. This wasn’t at all how she’d envisioned this going. Maybe she’d made a mistake by coming out here to find him.
He folded his thick arms across his chest, the sheer physical power of him making him even more imposing. “Why are you here, Charissa?”
Did he really not know? Frowning, she tilted her head. “Uh, I wanted to see you?”
“Why? Ashley said you checked out and left hours ago.”
Realization slowly dawned, and with it came a pang of empathy. He thought she’d taken off again. She shook her head. “I checked out, but only because I didn’t want to miss check out time. When I didn’t hear from you this morning, I went into town with Bridgette to do some shopping. After I got back, I asked Dusty where you were and he sent me out here.” She barely resisted the urge to fidget. “Is...that okay?”
His entire demeanor changed. Softened. The ice in his eyes thawed. “Yeah. Yeah, of course, it’s okay.” He seemed relieved.
Glad that awkward moment was over with, she smiled then took his face in her hands and leaned up to kiss him.
He stiffened for an instant, as though she’d taken him completely off guard, but he recovered fast. Before she could slide her arms around his neck, Dillon caught her around the waist and dragged her inside with a hungry growl. Her heart did a somersault in her chest.
One big hand fisted in her hair as he plundered her mouth with his tongue. She sighed and rubbed against him. Every nerve ending in her body pulsed at the evidence of his need for her. He shoved the door shut and pinned her against it, grinding into her with his hard, aroused body. His tongue swirled around hers, stroking and teasing. She gasped into his mouth, already melting for him. Desperate for more.
He pulled back just enough to see her eyes. His burned with the kind of dark desires she’d only dreamed about. “You sure about this?”
“Yes,” she managed shakily.
His gaze held her as forcefully as his body did. “You know what I want from you. What I’ll do to you.”
Swallowing, she nodded. He’d take total control of her this time. Make her completely helpless. God help her, she wanted it as much as he did. The thought of what he’d do excited her unbearably.
His eyes burned like blue flames as he released her and stepped back. “Go stand by the bed.”
She blinked in shock. Just like that? No more seductive lead-up, no more foreplay? He stood there watching her expectantly, and she finally took the hint and walked to the side of the king sized wrought iron bed. Her heart pounded against her ribs as she stared at the rumpled sheets he hadn’t bothered to remake. She might have an idea of what to expect, but she didn’t know exactly what he had in mind. He’d been so incredibly tender and considerate with her last night. Something told her he’d be different this time. More dominant. Rougher. She repressed a shiver, wondering what he would do to her, hoping he’d still be patient.
You wanted this. Too late to back out now.
“Face me and take off your clothes.”
She whipped around. His voice was low, hard. His muscular arms were folded across his chest. The ring of command in his words startled her. She’d never seen this cool, almost detached side of him before. Was he still angry? She didn’t want to do this if he was angry. He was much too big, much too experienced. Suddenly she felt a little afraid of him.
Dillon didn’t move from his position by the door, just watched her with that hot, predatory gaze. In full dominant mode. She didn’t know if she liked it or not.
“Strip for me,” he ordered softly, his eyes taunting her, almost like he wanted her to defy him. She wouldn’t dare.
A wave of acute self-consciousness swept through her, but if this was some sort of test, she refused to fail it. Her fingers shook a little as she reached for the hem of her snug top and drew it upward. She pulled the soft fabric up slowly, revealing the plane of her belly and the black lace push-up bra encasing her tingling breasts. The intent way his eyes tracked the shirt’s progress turned the heat between her legs into an insistent throb.
Beneath the feeling of unease, a sense of feminine power rushed through her. Dillon’s expression was set, his jaw tense as she undid her skirt and ever so slowly dragged it over her hips. She added a little shimmy when she drew it down her thighs to her red strappy wedges, loving the way he stared at the soft scrap of black fabric that covered her damp pussy. Her fingers found the little rhinestone heart nestled between the bra cups. Pausing, she stroked her fingertips over it, watching his reaction.
One corner of his mouth kicked up in amusement as he met her gaze. “Go ahead and tease me while you can, sweetness. But bear in mind, I’ll make it ten times worse for you when I take over.”
The endearment helped dispel some of the nervousness lurking inside her but didn’t remove it completely. With a shaky smile, she released the front clasp and carefully drew the cups aside. Her breasts felt heavy and swollen, the nipples tight and achy with need. The thought of his mouth sucking on them made her light headed.
“All of it,” he rasped, never taking his eyes off her naked flesh.
That hot stare made her feel feminine and oh so sexy as she revealed her body to him, because she had no doubt he recognized it as the act of surrender it was. Rather than make her feel weak or exposed, she felt beautiful. Free.
Sliding her hands into the waistband of her thong, she drew it away from the damp flesh between her thighs, slowly, biting her lip to stifle a moan as the fabric tugged against her hot folds. Every second, she was acutely conscious of Dillon’s gaze on her. Once her panties were gone, she unbuckled the red espadrilles and slid them off her feet.
When she was finally naked, she straightened and stood before him, fighting the urge to fidget and cover herself. The detached way he watched so silently made her feel more exposed. Bright beams of sunlight streamed through the slats in the wooden blinds covering the window next to his big bed. With that kind of illumination, he’d be able to see every imperfection on her body. A flush spread over her face, down her throat to her breasts. She wished he’d just take over, stop making her feel so nervous.
Without having moved or saying a single word, Dillon looked ready to devour her. “Stretch out on the bed for me.”
Something in his expression made Charissa hold his gaze as she climbed on the bed with as much grace as possible and lay on her back amongst the rumpled sheets with her trembling thighs pressed together modestly. She could feel his eyes on her naked skin, seeing every intimate detail. From the bedding, his clean scent reached out to tease her, the subtle spice and sexy musk that was all Dillon. She squeezed her legs together to try and relieve the persistent ache between them and waited. What was he going to do?
“Don’t move,” he said in a deep voice.
Without looking back at her, he turned and headed out of the room. Confused, she stared after him. A moment later, she heard a closet door open and him rummaging around. Charissa curled her hands into the bedding. What was he looking for? Toys? She held her breath as his footsteps headed back toward the bedroom. When he appeared, her eyes locked on what he held in his hands, and a ribbon of unease snaked through her.
Those were no novelty store cuffs or the cute fur-lined ones she’d seen in adult stores. They were wider, made of black leather, with some sort of metal clips attached to them. And he held several lengths of silver chain as well.
Full-on restraints.
Her heart skipped a beat as her gaze flew to his, but she couldn’t read his closed expression. He stopped at the foot of the bed, and this time, she could tell he was fighting a smile. Sensual heat and icy fear warred in her veins. Could she really do this? Relinquish this kind of control to a man with this sort of experience? It was obvious he was intimately familiar with the restraints. Unbidden, a twinge of jealousy flared deep insid
e. How many women had he brought here and used them on?
“Is it...always like this for you?” she managed, nervous yet curious as to exactly how far he took the dominance thing.
“No, not always. Just when I feel like playing.”
She had a feeling he liked to “play” a lot.
One dark eyebrow arched in a silent taunt. “It’s not too late to back out.”
He thought she’d chicken out? She raised her chin and fought the butterflies in her stomach. “I’m not afraid.”
A slow grin, pure masculine confidence and sex appeal. “Yeah, you are.” He settled one hip on the bed next to her. When she flicked a glance down at the restraints and then back at him, his lips quirked. “Pick a safeword, then.”
She licked her suddenly dry lips. This was moving a lot faster than she’d expected. She’d thought he’d ease her into it more. “Red.” That was standard, wasn’t it?
Dillon nodded, smoothed a hand over her hair, and drew his fingertips across her cheek as he held her stare. His touch eased some of the nerves, made her want to lean into him in a silent request for more. She’d never get enough of him touching her. “I’m driving,” he said in a low voice, “but you’re holding the emergency brake. You use your safeword, I stop. No matter what. You have my word.”
Why did that ironclad vow make her heart flutter? “Okay.” Her voice sounded unsteady, but she couldn’t help it. Part of her couldn’t believe she was actually going to go through with this. Dillon wouldn’t actually do something that would make her need to use her safeword, would he?
He held out a hand. “Give me your arm.”
Gathering her courage, she raised a wrist and offered it to him. Only a slight tremor in her hand betrayed her disquiet about being bound for him. Dillon took her hand between his, the leather cuff brushing over her skin as he bent and pressed a tender kiss to her palm. The soothing gesture helped slow her pounding heart.
While his lips played against her flesh, he buckled the cuff into place with practiced fingers. The black leather was soft and pliable around her wrist, snug enough that she could feel its grip but not tight. When he reached for her other arm, this time she didn’t struggle with herself and gave it to him willingly. She watched as he attached the other cuff, then checked to make sure it wasn’t too tight.
Without pause, he leaned over her and positioned her arm up and out to the side. She turned her head in time to see him snag something he’d attached to the slat of his wrought iron headboard. A metallic snick, and her wrist was cuffed to a short length of chain. Swallowing, she flexed her arm experimentally and found she had only a few inches of room to move. He was tying her down, but not completely immobilizing her. Thank God. She didn’t think she could have handled that.
Dillon took her other wrist, and she resisted for a second before consciously forcing herself to relax and give him her hand. He clipped the second cuff to the short length of chain at the opposite site of the headboard and sat back to examine his handiwork.
“I’ve wanted to do this since the day I met you,” he said, his eyes full of repressed need.
“The first day?” she asked weakly, trying to slow her racing heart and ignore the building apprehension that crept through her veins. Fear of the unknown, more than anything else.
“And every day since.” His eyes burned like blue flames.
“Oh...” Damn. Good thing he hadn’t told her, or she’d have bolted right then and there, rather than later.
Placing his hands on the mattress at either side of her head, Dillon leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. “You’re mine. And I take very, very good care of what’s mine,” he whispered as his mouth sought hers.
A delicious tremor ran through her when their lips touched, the heat of arousal beginning to build again. Her lips parted for the stroke of his tongue, the thrusting motion making her pussy throb and ache, getting her wet and ready for him. After a heart-pounding minute, he pulled back.
Unease gripped her when he wrapped his fingers around one of her ankles and tugged. She’d been hoping he’d only tie her hands for this, but she realized it wouldn’t be enough for him. Nothing short of her full surrender would cut it.
Reluctantly she straightened her bent knee and allowed him to secure the cuff around her ankle. When he pulled it toward the right side of the footboard, she clamped her legs together so that he took both feet with him.
Saying nothing, Dillon brought a longer length of chain up from the floor and hooked the cuff to it. She flinched at the metallic click, her heart drumming hard and fast in her throat. She’d never had her feet tied, too. It meant she’d be completely at his mercy, and that she had no choice but to trust that he’d obey the safeword if she used it.
I’m okay. I can do this.
But despite the brave words, when his hand closed on her free ankle, she instinctively resisted. She needed more time to ease into this—wasn’t ready to surrender all her control yet. Dillon looked up at her, the heat in his gaze searing her as he maintained steady pressure on her foot, refusing to allow her to back down but waiting for her to relax and give in, his strong hands warm against her chilled skin.
She swallowed. The brightness of the room bothered her. If it had been darker, she might have felt more comfortable. Being naked and spread-eagled for his inspection made her damned nervous. It made her feel exposed and threatened to break through the sensual haze she’d started to drift in.
As though he sensed her unease, Dillon smoothed a palm up her calf, over her knee and thigh. A tender, soothing stroke meant to relax her, reassure her. But she couldn’t give in yet. She trusted him, though her mind and body rebelled at the thought of being rendered so completely powerless to him. Once he secured her other foot she wouldn’t even be able to squirm away or kick at him if he lost control. The muscles in her legs locked tight, an invisible hand squeezing the air from her lungs.
Dillon continued to hold her gaze, keeping the pressure on her ankle steady, not letting her retreat but not yet forcing her to comply. After a minute, she realized what he was telling her without words. He was waiting because he wanted—needed her to submit to this. Needed her to willingly put herself in his hands. He wouldn’t force her to do this, but what he truly wanted from her was total surrender.
Faced with the enormity of it, she wasn’t sure she could give him that much.
Taking a deep, calming breath, Charissa pushed aside the fear and self-consciousness. Dillon would never hurt her; she knew that on her most primal level. Forcing her rigid muscles to unlock, she finally allowed Dillon to part her legs and spread them to clip the last cuff to the bedframe.
“That’s my girl.”
The approval and respect in his tone helped dull the sharp edge of fear, but didn’t erase it completely. The position left her completely exposed to his gaze, the folds of her wet pussy open for his intimate inspection.
Despite the dark thrill of knowing she’d finally taken the leap into the unknown, a bubble of panic surfaced. She was trapped. The tightness in her chest increased, her pulse thudding hard against her throat. Instinct made her arms and legs yank against the bonds, but she got nowhere. The delicate chains clinked with each struggle, sounding like gongs to her over-sensitized ears. Her breathing turned shallow, her skin grew cold and clammy.
Oh, Jesus, she was stuck like this until he decided to release her. What if he didn’t stop? What if he didn’t let her up?
A hard male palm settled on top of her sternum, jerking her out of her frantic thoughts. “Breathe, sweetness. I’m right here. Just breathe.”
Focusing on his low voice and the feel of that anchoring hand, she closed her eyes and wrestled her respiration back under control. After a few moments, the jagged edge of panic faded away. Her heartbeat rattled in her ears. Dillon’s hand caressed the center of her chest in a slow, gentle circle, chasing the fear away.
She was okay. He wouldn’t hurt her. If she used her safeword, he’d stop.
&n
bsp; “There we go,” he murmured in approval as she settled and relaxed under his touch.
Her head was spinning. So many thoughts and emotions were running through her that she couldn’t keep track. Part of her gloried in the sensuality of the moment, in the knowledge that she was at his mercy and she’d pleased him by giving in. Another part kept screaming that she must be insane to go through with this after that awful experience with her last lover. She wanted—needed—to believe this time would be different.
Please let this be okay.
“Look at me.”
Her lids flew open. Dillon was watching her intently, his palm gliding in soothing circles across her skin. As he stroked, the heat began to flow out from his palm to her breasts, making them tingle and swell. Her tight nipples throbbed in anticipation, waiting for his touch. For the feel of his mouth closing around them. She arched her back in silent invitation.
With a slow smile, Dillon leaned down to kiss her lips, stealing his tongue across the seam before gliding inside. Her pussy quivered in reaction. Her fingers curled into fists, wanting to touch him, have something to hold onto. The steady pressure of the cuffs around her wrists reminded her she couldn’t. The realization both frustrated her and made the inner fire burn hotter.
His lips and tongue traced a scalding path over her throat to her breasts. While his big hands cupped the tender mounds, his thumbs swept across the aching nipples and his mouth drew closer and closer to them. Shifting restlessly, she arched her back as much as her bonds allowed, the muscles along her spine straining with the effort. In answer, Dillon rubbed his cheek against her breasts and opened his mouth over one hard peak. Heat engulfed her.
Charissa gasped and tugged at her restraints as sensation arrowed from her nipple to her pulsing clit. She wriggled her hips as he sucked first one nipple, then the other. Pulling rhythmically with his mouth, his tongue gliding across the hard points. Back and forth, back and forth, until she was trembling all over, liquid with pleasure.